


insanity looks good on you

by bloominghwa



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: HARLEY YEO, Hongjoong wants Yeosang for himself, Hot, I KEEP PUTTING OFF SCHOOLWORK FOR THIS, M/M, Seonghwa is blood covered half the time, This is my Harley Yeo indulgence fic, Yeosang and San are hella flirty, Yeosang is hot, bane jongho, because I like gore, but there is gore, catwoman san, firefly mingi, i don’t know how to write gore, im still not over it guys, joker seonghwa, killer frost wooyoung, mr. freeze yunho, period, poison ivy joong, seonghwa is kind of um, seriously, some of them wear dresses because I have no self control, this is the dirtiest thing I’m ever going to write please help me, this was supposed to be for halloween but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 03:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21487969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominghwa/pseuds/bloominghwa
Summary: so they were both a little insane.  but what’s a little bit of insanity in a city of crimes ?
Relationships: Choi Jongho & Kim Hongjoong, Choi San & Jung Wooyoung, Choi San & Kang Yeosang, Choi San & Park Seonghwa, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kang Yeosang & Kim Hongjoong, Kang Yeosang & Park Seonghwa, Kang Yeosang/Kim Hongjoong, Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 112





	insanity looks good on you

**Author's Note:**

> hi i’m stressed as hell but look at what i’m doing hahahhah
> 
> sorry i haven’t updated my other story in a while, a new update is coming soon hopefully, i just don’t like the way it looks right now.
> 
> um, have a nice day !!
> 
> OH GORE WARNING EVEN THOUGH ITS REALLY BAD  
(seriously someone teach me)  
also i don’t know how to write filth so have some mediocre filth

“No! I swear! It…It wasn’t me, I didn’t do it!” Muffled screams echo down the hallway as a scuffle of feet and bodies hurry along the metal floor. The security guard has his feet up on the desk before a wall of monitors, leaning back against his chair. A quiet hum vibrates the room and the rusted lamp droops over a stack of ignored files and empty chip bags.

“That’s what they all say, son. That’s what they all say.” An apologetic voice replies, cutting off the thrashing by pressing his hands harshly against the bound wrists. A visible shudder crawls up the blindfolded man’s body and he stops resisting, the guards swiftly shoving him down the hall once more. A shadow watches as the prisoner gets dragged away, a smile curling upon his lips as he places his hands elegantly into his pocket. Adjusting his wrist cuffs, he turns his head towards the security office, where the metal door was wide open. Papers are leaking from the confines of the small room, folders strewn feet away from the doorway and the reinforced glass peppered with bullet marks. Peeling away from the darkness, the shadow steps forward into the flickering light of the shitty LEDs, stepping on spilled papers with red ink spelling “classified”. Reaching the slumped security guard, the smile widens until pristine teeth glistened under the decayed light and the man lifts a careless hand from his pocket and presses a finger against the guard’s shoulder. The uniformed body rolls over the black armrest, taking the chair down as it tumbles to the floor. The head lolls unnaturally against the smooth tiles as red seeps from a hole between the eyes.

“My, my,” Seonghwa muses. “They were lenient today.”

Smoothing back his slick obsidian hair, he kicks away the chair, the body sliding against the floor until it hits the wall. He leans over the intercom, slamming a hand on the desk and tapping incessantly against the glaring red button. 

“Babydoll, please report to the security office.” A velvet voice croons overhead, the edges of a maniacal laugh in the staticky ends of his words. “You have been a bad, bad girl.”

With that he sets aside the microphone, pushing off more scarlet-stained papers from the metal table. He steps over the body of the security guard, black dress shoes kicking into the face as he wanders idly around the room, looking at the wooden frames hanging upon the wall. Upon reaching the framed picture in the middle of the room, the wandering click of Seonghwa’s shoes stop. The man in the picture has graying hair and deep eye bags, wrinkles and creases surround his black eyes as they bore into the camera. Stiffness is seen in the mustache over the man’s weary mouth, both of them curved downward to match the boring background of the picture. The bottom of the frame emblazoned in painted gold metal are the words “Commissioner”. Seonghwa observes the picture for a while, tilting his head and taking in the tired slopes and set lips of the commissioner, and a wide smile began forming again on his own lips. Body rattling with uncontrolled shudders of laughter, he draws a glinting blade from the inside of his velvet blazer, twirling it carelessly around his fingers as he dips his head closer to the frame. With precision born without a bit of care, he slashes at the paper cheeks of the commissioner, creating gashes from the corners of the commissioner’s lips all the way up to the cheekbones. 

“There’s that pretty smile,” Seonghwa exclaims with satisfaction, slipping his knife back into his coat.

Sound of boots against metal begins to approach the office as he puts his knife away and Seonghwa turns around with a grin that almost mirrored the commissioners.

“Dollface,” he greets, teeth baring in a smile much too wide.

The other immediately rushes forward, barbed bat dragging against the ground and creating sparks in its wake before it leaves the ground with its owner, who wraps his arms around Seonghwa’s neck and brings his legs up to wrap above his hips. Bringing his lips close to the other’s face, Seonghwa feels the warm breath of the other against his skin as their foreheads lean against each other. He firmly grips the other’s thighs wrapped gorgeously in fishnets as he makes eye contact with the sparkling insanity in front of him.

“Heya Puddin’.” Red lipstick-smeared lips curve into a kitten smile as the other pulls himself flush against Seonghwa, his arms wrapping tighter around Seonghwa’s neck with the bat hanging from the ends of his fingers. He giggles and squirms as Seonghwa presses kisses against the column of his neck, tongue wandering the pale skin and biting his Adam’s apple. His giggles dissolve into a loud gasp as Seonghwa bites harshly into his jugular, the skin slowly turning purple as Seonghwa continues to suck at the same spot.

“Sangie,” Seonghwa growls lowly as he darts his tongue out, licking over the darkening spot. “A bit soft on the security guard huh?”

Yeosang whines and lifts his head to expose his neck as Seonghwa’s fingers continue to dig into his thighs.

“I need a verbal answer, doll,” Seonghwa breathes against Yeosang’s neck, shifting his hands so that he pulls Yeosang’s legs tighter around his waist.

“He—he was a charming one,” Yeosang answers between pants, his lipstick more smeared than before and his eye’s glossy.

Seonghwa hums as he makes sure imprints of his fingertips are left behind on the smooth expanse of Yeosang’s pale thighs, setting down the other on the metal table and beckoning for the bat. Yeosang hisses as the chill of the table meets his sensitive skin, flicking his blond pigtails out of his face before leaning over and placing a peck on Seonghwa’s neck, handing him the bat. Seonghwa grins, his lips stretching impossibly wide as he twirls the bat deftly, swinging it experimentally several times. Once satisfied, he saunters over to the pitiful body of the security guard, using his foot to flip the body until the features of eternal shock faced the rusted ceiling fan. 

A smile spread upon his face, Seonghwa turns back to a curious Yeosang, who shifts his weight so far forward that he was almost off the side of the table. Not even a second later, Seonghwa raises the bat and brings the sharp wires down upon the guard’s head. He lifts the bat and brings it down again, exposing the smooth ivory of the skull above the eyebrow. And again, stripping away the chin. and again, forcing the nose into the skull. And again, cutting into an eyeball and spilling the viscous liquid into the clean hole in the guard’s forehead. And again and again and again and again until what was left under the bloodied wires is reduced to a pile of crimson flesh stripped off and shards of white bone. Seonghwa left the bottom half of his jaw intact because he is kind like that.

He turns back to face Yeosang’s perch, watching the other’s eyes widening along with the smile splitting the blushing pale face. Hand coming up to wipe the crimson freckles off his face, Seonghwa cringes as he observes the accidental red stain on the corner of his coat sleeve. The cuts from the corner of his lips extended by the streaks of fresh blood, he lifts the bat so that it rests on his shoulder.

“Time to clean?” Yeosang squeals as he leaps off the metal table with his pigtails jumping, sidling up to Seonghwa and grabbing his arm excitedly. 

“Ah, no. Not today, babydoll.” Seonghwa lets his free hand rest on Yeosang’s waist, sliding down the side of his crop top until it rubs at skin. “We’ll let the others take care of that, there’s business to attend to tonight.”

Yeosang pouts at that, the messy vibrant red and blue eyeshadow around his eyes almost dulling from the gigantic pleading eyes that face Seonghwa.

“But Sir,” he brings his low voice to a lovely pitch. “Sir, I want to play.”

Tugging at Seonghwa’s sleeve, Yeosang puffs out his lips and stomps his feet childishly, letting out a high pitched whine when Seonghwa ignores him with a leg already halfway out the door. Snaking an arm out, he turns Seonghwa with a surprising amount of strength, making the other’s normally composed eyes widen in surprise as he pressed himself against Seonghwa’s chest. Peering up at the older with eyes gleaming with mischief, Yeosang takes Seonghwa’s tie into his hand and tugs it until they were face to face. He smiles innocently as his other hand smooths over the sharp edges of Seonghwa’s shoulder and traces his pointer finger over Seonghwa’s collarbone down his sternum before moving his hands to palm the front of his slacks. Seonghwa glances at Yeosang’s face, eyes darting to his lips before darkening as it trails back up to his eyes. He ghosts his fingers over Yeosang’s arm as he studies the excited gleam in his eyes before cupping Yeosang’s jaw roughly and pulling the other in until their noses touched. He catches Yeosang’s gaze darting quickly to the bloodied bat resting on the other's shoulders.

“Misbehaving again, are we?” Seonghwa snarls with a smile, his grip tightening as he leans closer, smile stretching as a sharp intake of breath is heard from Yeosang. “We don’t want your pretty face to get punished now, do we?”

Yeosang shakes his head with widened eyes with his pigtails bobbing along, the grip on Seonghwa’s tie loosening. Releasing Yeosang’s face, Seonghwa slides his hands down to Yeosang’s thighs, caressing it gently before digging his sharpened nails into the skin. A yelp is drawn from Yeosang as red streaks form on his thighs, the fishnet snapping back into place after Seonghwa’s fingernails drag over them.

“Come now, princess. We’ve have a traitor to deal with.” Dragging his feet casually against the crimson slice of blood on the floor, Seonghwa lifts Yeosang’s chin with a finger, a honeyed smile dancing on his face. Yeosang nods, submission evident on his face as he lowers his head again and trails after Seonghwa into the main hallway of the prison. The usually raucous cell blocks resounds silence as the duo struts straight down the middle of the tiled floors. Rats scuttle out of the way as they passed rows after rows of rusting bars and small rooms, the scrabble of their feet cut off when the bat is brought down again.

Soon they reach a green sign hanging from a singular nail off the cracked paint of the garish yellow walls.

“So-li-tary con-fine-ment?” Yeosang spells out curiously, coming forward to lean his head against Seonghwa’s shoulder. He scrunches his nose in distaste. “Sounds boring.”

Seonghwa merely draws Yeosang along as they enter a metal door reinforced with melted steel locks still clinging to the object that they had failed to defend. Reviewing the drooping chain and charred hole, the movement into the musty hallways slows, and Seonghwa reaches into his pocket, fishing something from his slacks and tossing it carelessly in the direction of the door. The object clinks as it hits the ground. They make it only several steps before the entire wall behind them blows apart. Seonghwa grins a little when he hears Yeosang’s giggle as the shorter attaches himself to Seonghwa’s free arm again.

Pushing through a poorly attached barred door, the pair steps into a darkened room with one flickering ceiling light. A man with a sack over his head sits in a crooked metal chair, bound excessively from his chest all the way to his feet. Seonghwa beckons for a burly guard to bring another lamp as Yeosang releases the grip on his arm, prancing over to the captive. Reaching out with grabby hands at Seonghwa, Yeosang’s eyes shine with demented light as he prowls around the chair, making the man under him jerk every time his hand brushed against his shoulder. Seonghwa approaches his little monster, perfection wrapped in red and blue, and plants a kiss onto his lips, smearing Yeosang’s lipstick further as the other giggles into his mouth. 

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, princess,” Seonghwa whispers as he disconnects their lips. “We need him to keep his tongue for now.”

The younger pouts dramatically, but nods his head as Seonghwa sets him off with another kiss, this time at the pinkish birthmark hiding behind strands of his blond hair. 

“Hi!” Yeosang chirps as he drops himself onto the man’s lap, arms wrapped around the back of the prisoner’s neck and pulling at the burlap sack over his head. “Let’s see that handsome face of yours, hm?”

He pulls back with his fingers and the man’s head follows along, snapping back before his face is exposed from the bag. Tousled hair sits nervously against his damp forehead as the captive’s eyes blearily adjust to the brightness of the lamp the burly guard brought in. Groaning, the man’s head rolls back in exhaustion, only to be forcibly jerked upright with Yeosang’s fingers tangling in his hair.

“Oh, you’re a pretty one,” Yeosang exclaims, grinning as he brings his face closer to their captive. “To think you ruined fun for my Puddin’. We could’ve had such a great time together.”

The man tries to turn his head, his breath growing heavier and heavier as he struggles in Yeosang’s grasp. Yeosang giggles while releasing his grip, petting the grimy hair while smiling sweetly. He lifts himself off the captive, not before rolling his hips down and winking down at the terrified face, and moves to grab the barbed bat. Running the tip of the bat up the man’s leg, he observes the subtle flinches of the muscles and laughs.

“Scared, honey?” Yeosang leans in, grin widening maniacally as he searches the man’s eyes. There was something hard set that he found and his face immediately shifts back into a pout as he turns to Seonghwa. 

“He’s no fun,” he whines, garnering a raised eyebrow from Seonghwa, who leans against a wall watching with amused eyes.

Letting out a puff of breath that lifted several stray blond strands, he twirls the bat expertly between his fingers and swings the bat full force. It connects with a sharp snap to the man’s knees, eliciting a scream that sounded just as bloody as it looks. Another snap leaves behind the shattered remains of his other knee. The bat clatters unceremoniously to the ground as Yeosang takes the place back onto the captive’s lap forcing the broken knees to support his full weight.

“Ready to talk?” He asks, grin mischievous as he watches tears begin to collect in the man under him. A defiance that settles in the other’s expression and a firm shake of his head prompts a sigh and Yeosang begins to reach for his bat again. A gentle hand to his shoulder stops him and he looks up to see Seonghwa facing the captive.

“You hadn’t got the right to tell him no.” A dark hiss crawls ominously in the room, the lamp making it no brighter. The ceiling light flickers a little, casting a long shadow of Seonghwa on the side of the wall. 

“Alright princess, times up.” Seonghwa turns and presses his lips against Yeosang’s birthmark again as he whispers a small “Get ready” into the shorter’s ears. Yeosang nods obediently and hops off the captive’s lap, scurrying out the door after planting a kiss of his own on Seonghwa’s lips.

“I suppose I should teach you a lesson.” Seonghwa turns and begins pacing around the room. “But that doesn’t seem much fun, don’t you think?”

He draws closer, discarding his bloodied suit jacket and loosening his tie, revealing a crimson-splattered dress shirt. Looping the tie around the captive’s neck, Seonghwa crouches so that he was eye level with the man’s wobbling gaze.

“So, who did you reveal the information to?” Tugging the tie harshly, the man lets out a guttural choking noise as Seonghwa pulls his head backwards. Seonghwa loosens his grip as let’s the man gather enough breath.

“I didn’t…I didn’t try anything! I swear it was—” The man is silenced with the gentle glide of cold metal against his cheek.

“Hm, is that so?” Seonghwa croons, dragging the flat side of the blade against the sweaty cheek of the other. “You weren’t the one who meddled with my little housecleaning project?”

“N-no Sir.” The man’s voice tremble as his arms begins to jerk against his restraints.

“Oh, don’t be so formal. You can just say my name,” Seonghwa says, a smile splitting his face as he begins to dig the tip of the blade into the man’s cheek. “Now who were the people you gave the information to?”

A heartbeat of silence.

“His family?” Seonghwa addresses one of the guards, who stood silently by the door watching the scene unfold. The captive’s eyes widen as he begins to rattle the metal chair in agitation.

“Nonono. Please, Seong—”

The words are cut off into a bloody gurgling as Seonghwa pulls the tie forward and jabs the knife straight into the captive’s cheeks. A terrific scream bubbles as if the man was underwater and Seonghwa’s smile grew wider as he twists the handle deeper. With a slick wet sound, the knife slides out of the open slit in the man’s cheek, blood pouring out and mixing with tears and spit as the man gasps for breath between waves of red on his tongue.

“Shut. Up.” A low growl curves dangerously into Seonghwa’s smiling face. “Unless you’re going to speak. Shut up.”

The man swallows down his blood, wandering eyes betraying his inner turmoil. Seonghwa sits back on his heels and adjusts his cuffs as the man debates with himself, eyes never leaving the trembling expression of defiance. After a few more moments of silence, the man finally complies, listing out names with red foaming from his mouth and blood gushing from his cheek. Seonghwa stands, a satisfied smile on his lips as he orders the men by the doors to search for the others. He stoops again, wiping lightly against the gash and smearing blood on his fingers as he cleaned scarlet from the man’s face. His eyes soften as he soothes the man, hand dripping with an excessive amount of blood leaking out.

“Your family will be safe,” he cooes gently, holding the other’s face before plunging the knife into his other cheek. A sharp scream is cut off as Seonghwa removes the knife and stabs down again and again until the bottom half of the man’s face drips down his shirt, his jaw unhinged and hanging on by a tendon. His tongue is still intact among the gore, though the man could not use the severed muscle even if he was fully conscious. Seonghwa wipes the knife against his white shirt, an expression of disgust on his face as he watches some flesh fall from the man’s gaping mouth. Shaking off drips of blood from his fingers, he removes the tie from around the man’s neck, and drapes it over his shoulder. He grabs a walkie talkie from his pocket and lets the static fill the empty harmony of blood dripping and rats skittering for their meal.

“Contact the cleaners,” Seonghwa sighs into the receiver. “I’m not going to buy another white shirt for the fifth time this week.”

A static confirmation buzzes on the other end as a pair walks in. The man groans as the metallic tang pierces through his nose, but his companion scoffs as she steps into pools of red to approach Seonghwa.

“Gather the rest and head back,” Seonghwa orders. “I want you two to find the people he gave the information to an’ get rid of ‘em.”

He looks around at the dingy room and turns back to the man. Rats had already begun to gather curiously, their glinting eyes piercing through the dark. A brave one scurries across the floor, climbing up the broken legs of the man and tunneling into the unhinged jaw, his tail disappearing down the man’s throat. His curious companions began to creep out of the shadows, moving like a giant black-gray mass across the slimy floor and swarming the bound body. The man, regaining consciousness slightly, could only jerk in his restraints as rats drill into his body, his eyes widening as the first rat bursts out of his chest, nibbling on the red flesh hanging.

“By the way,” Seonghwa claps his hands as he turns back around. “Get rid of the bodies in the hallway, they don’t look well with the decorations.”

He continues to gesture vaguely as his eyes roll upward, thinking.

“That is all,” he grins. “Remember the lamp.”

With that he scoops up the jacket discarded on the floor, and flourishes out of the room. He steps over the slumped bodies of several, only bending down once to retrieve a pair of golden handcuffs from an overtly well-off policeman. A car waits for him in front as he saunters out the prison, a sleek Lamborghini with Yeosang lounging in it, half his body in the backseat while his legs dangle off the front. His red and blue bomber jacket rests over his shoulders as he exposes the purple mark on his neck, his red and blue-dyed pigtails hanging off the back seat headrest. Yeosang didn’t change out of his tight shorts, the sparkling piece hugging tightly around his waist as he sucks on a cherry lollipop. Seonghwa laughs as Yeosang perks up from his position as he spies the other approaching, jacket dropping off as he sits up and revealing a tight leather tank top with straps looping around his thin waist.

“Ready to go, dollface?” Seonghwa inquires, sliding into the front seat, letting Yeosang loop his legs across his chest.

“Mhm!” Yeosang answers brightly as he purses his lips around the stick of the lollipop before taking it out with a resounding pop. He crawls over the front seat headrest and settles himself in the passenger seat, curling himself into Seonghwa as the other revs the car before taking off.

“What’s the plan today, Puddin’?” Yeosang asks as they speed down the road. The prison being virtually secluded in the middle of nowhere, the roads are empty, cracked and filled with potholes. The roofless car allows wind to muss up Yeosang’s hair and run through Seonghwa’s raven hair as he swerves down the road. Seonghwa’s tongue flicks out in thought, his distracted gaze landing on Yeosang’s legs, propped up against the windshield as the shorter languidly swirls his tongue around his cherry lollipop, dyeing the muscle red. 

“I don’t know, probably a lil’ reunion party. Somethin’ fun I suppose. ” Seonghwa lets his tongue drag across his bottom lip slowly as he forces himself to look back on the road.

Yeosang squeals, legs dropping as he sits up, stray blond hair whipping through the wind. His smile stretched wide across his face, his now-immaculate lipstick sticking onto his hair. Nodding, Seonghwa relishes lightly in the pure excitement in Yeosang’s voice as the younger cheers, reaching his hands up and standing from his seat and letting the wind ripple through his jacket. He looks down at Seonghwa, who spares a quick adoring glance his way, and steps over the middle, plopping himself into Seonghwa’s lap comfortably. Humming thoughtfully, he wraps his arms around Seonghwa’s neck, playing with the short hair as he rests his cheek on Seongwa’s shoulder.

“I think I should’ve dressed up more, considering we’re goin’ to a reunion party,” whispers Yeosang as he leans into Seonghwa. “But after all, San an’ Mingi might rig up some explosives or somethin’, and we’ll end up bombing the hell out of some banks.”

Seonghwa lets his attention drop to Yeosang’s neck again as he kisses it, eyes leavening the road briefly capture the dazed expression of the younger as his eyes flutter close.

“Definitely have to bomb somethin’ though,” Yeosang hums. “I need some new clothes.”

He tilts his head and presses a prominent lipstick mark on Seonghwa’s pale neck. A growl rumbles in Seonghwa’s throat as he lets go of the steering wheel with one hand, grabbing at Yeosang’s shorts and kneading the flesh under it. Yeosang only smiles against the skin of his neck before planting more kisses and accompanying them with bites. The car swerves a little as Seonghwa groans, hand gripping tighter to Yeosang.

“Behave.” Yeosang is slightly surprised by how steady his voice was and let out a pathetic whimper when Seonghwa begins to trail his hand over Yeosang’s fishnets and the painful grip beginning to make Yeosang roll down his hips. A mischievous grin on his face, Yeosang begins to trail a hand down Seonghwa’s chest and lower past his navel. Quick movement deters his plan as Seonghwa moves his hands at an inhuman speed, restraining Yeosang’s hand against his back with a telltale click. Yeosang gasps at the cold metal binding his wrists and looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the golden cuffs now encircling his wrists. He looks back at Seonghwa to see the mocking grin on the older’s face. 

The city is nearing as more cars begin to zip past and tall buildings line the horizon. Yeosang could to nothing but whine as Seonghwa squeezes him once again before nudging him back to the passenger side.

————————————

A loud explosion sounds as Seonghwa stumbles out of the building pressing at a controller, dusting off his suit while looking behind him. One, two, three explosions follow soon after with Yeosang sprinting out of the building, cackling with bags in both hands. Seonghwa frowns as he recounts the amount of explosions, then slaps the trigger several more times. The last explosion sounds and Seonghwa almost trips over his own feet, but composes himself to sprint after Yeosang with a self-satisfied smile. 

Yeosang leaps into the car first, slipping behind the wheel and starting the engine. He shifts the car to drive and revs the engine, flooring it as Seonghwa vaults himself over the side and lands in the plush back seats. Yeosang turns back and smiles, his lipstick smearing a little in the corner of his mouth, which Seonghwa found undeniably hot, and continues to swerve on the road, dodging cars that drove towards them. Cacophony of beeping on the streets didn’t distract Yeosang as he drifts into an alleyway, arms straightened and tense as he skids to a stop after busting through several trash cans and scratching the side against a dumpster. Chests heaving and eyes widened, the alley echoes with the breath of the pair as they stare at each other.

“That was fun,” pants Yeosang, his stray hair streaking across his face and a pigtail hanging loosely over his shoulder. A slow grin begins to crack on their faces, and Yeosang giggles as he crawls over the backseat to flop himself on top of the older, snuggling into his chest. Seonghwa strokes Yeosang’s head several times before propping himself up.

“Princess, I would love to lay here with you all day, but if we don’t move, you know how loud everyone gets when we’re late.” Seonghwa grunts as he tries to lift Yeosang off of him, the other acting as deadweight as he wraps his arms around Seonghwa’s waist and refused to let go. Huffing, Seonghwa manhandles Yeosang until he is flat on his back and scoops him into his arms.

“You’re goin’ to have to pay for this,” he whispers as he bends down to bite Yeosang’s ear. The younger makes a pleased noise as he loops his arms around Seonghwa’s neck and gazed up at him lovingly as they move toward a discreet black door .

They descend down the steps into darkness as the ground beneath the stolen car rumbles and opens, swallowing the vehicle as it disappears into one of Seonghwa’s garages. Ominous warehouse lighting lines the side of the stairwell as they continue downwards, the discreet cobwebs lining the walls drifting in some invisible wind. Yeosang practically leaps out of Seonghwa’s arms when they make it into the main warehouse, the dingy lighting greeting them along with several of their friends lounging upon the couch. Seonghwa watches with unsubdued jealousy as Yeosang pounces on the couch, peppering kisses on Wooyoung and Hongjoong’s faces.

“I’m goin’ to go change now.” Seonghwa calls, hoping to at least get some acknowledgement, but it falls upon deaf ears as Yeosang continues to squirm in Hongjoong’s lap telling them how much he had missed them. A hand upon his shoulder jostles him as San, clad in a tight leather jumpsuit stalks up next to him.

“Jealous, babe?” San purrs as he leans his cheek against his hand, his icy eyes looking up at Seonghwa with a sultry gaze. 

“Don’t call me that.” Seonghwa brushes of San as he pivots on his heel, heading towards a room with a giant door barely holding on its hinges. From too much activity, Seonghwa would say with tongue slipping out of his tilted smile as Yeosang would flush and whimper. 

“Y’know, Yeosang looks mighty fine with his shorts today. Might not be able to keep my hands off him.” San insistently follows after Seonghwa.

“Touch him and I’ll bomb your house.”

“Ooo touchy, touchy,” San laughs, bringing his hands up in surrender. “Wouldn’t want Wooyoung to lose all my toys, though it should be Joong you should be worried about.”

Seonghwa doesn’t even look up, continuing to strip himself of his gritty, streaked suit and contemplates between a massive fur coat with leopard spotting or a sleek purple, snakeskin long coat.

“What I should worry about,” Seonghwa tuts, taking out the long coat and turning it contemplatively in his hands. “Is whether Yeosang is still able to walk after tonight.”

He pulls on the coat and buttons only the middle button, leaving his chest and Yeosang’s lipstick mark exposed as well as a small sliver of his stomach. Turning around and meeting San’s amused, knowing gaze, he peers through the giant gap between the door and the top of the door frame. Hongjoong brushes his hands coyly past Yeosang’s ass as the other leans against him in his lap, and he watches Hongjoong’s red hair tilt into Yeosang as the younger whispers into his ear, and he walks out with coattails sweeping and a twisted smile. 

“Where’s Bane and Freeze?” Hongjoong lifts his head up, letting his green eyes rake over Seonghwa before whispering something to a giggling Yeosang.

“Jongho had to go pick up Mingi ‘cause the insect accidentally set off his bomb inside his own car,” Wooyoung said, picking at his fingers. San flops into the other’s lap, yelping slightly as Wooyoung pulls him closer into his pale fur coat and running frozen fingers along his nape, but kisses his cheek nonetheless.

“Yunho went to take a piss.” A booming voice echos down the hall as a tall, blue-haired man steps down from the catwalk. “And he’s back.”

“I’m going to shove an iceberg up your ass,” Wooyoung declares, his ice-blue eyes flicking upwards to glare at Yunho.

“Do mine instead,” purrs San as he shifts his body on Wooyoung’s thighs.

Seonghwa clears his throat and clasps his hands. “As much as I would  _ love  _ to discuss kinks. We have to go pronto. Charity gala in thirty.”

Yeosang reacts quickly, shimmying off Hongjoong’s lap as he rushes to the room where Seonghwa had been and popping out only mere seconds later with his mallet in hand and a silver gun strapped to his thigh. Seonghwa lets his tongue dart out briefly as he motions for Yeosang to come to his side, delving into a kiss that was more tongue and teeth than anything when the shorter was close enough . Groaning, Yeosang lets himself get overpowered as his knees threatened to buckle, but an annoyed “seriously?” from the doorway cuts them off. Seonghwa releases Yeosang, but not before piercing his bottom lip so hard with his teeth that it begins to bleed. Jongho could only sigh from the door as Yeosang’s eyes follow Seonghwa with irises blown wide.

————————————

The city square is alight, bursting with flashy stage lights as the crew pulls up in one of San’s stolen limousines. San whines loudly when he finds out that they weren’t allowed to blow up the front just yet; Wooyoung having to press multiple kisses into his hair before his pout melted away. Yunho bluntly points out that Mingi’s new flaming hairdo matched with the dirty red carpet that many dripping celebrities stepped on, to which Mingi complains hotly about, threatening to bomb Yunho’s hideout. Yunho proceeds to tilt his head like a confused puppy, turning and whispering something to Yeosang.

Seonghwa directs the driver down a decrepit street next to the museum, the dim rotting streetlights reaching feebly to the brightly lit grass of the broad city square.

“Let’s go!” San cheers as the car pulls to a stop. The catlike male opts to open the window and flip out as his boyfriend watches fondly with a frosty smile decorating his lips.

“Show off,” Mingi mumbles as he opens his car door. The fiery pyromaniac steps out with his fireproof suit reflecting the blazing lights and gestures for his clumsy opposite to come out. Yunho flushes as much as his icy skin could in his suit, though his face remains impassive, and takes Mingi’s hand for the other to help him out only when Yeosang encourages him excitedly. 

Wooyoung slips out of the window following San, the dramatic duo already discussing the infiltration techniques, or just whispering dirty stuff to each other; Seonghwa didn’t much care. He waves for Yeosang to come out, the other pulling at the mallet stuck behind Jongho’s butt. They eventually all gathered at the entrance of the dim street looking outside at the decked out museum hall where the gala is held. 

“What’s the plan, Mr. Clown?” Hongjoong fiddles with the vines decorating his leafy wrists as he checks the horizon. “Sun’s goin’ down soon and I don’t plan on dyin’ tonight.”

“What about me ‘n Woosan go into the ball disguised while Mingi and Yunho plan out the explosives and how to take out the guards?” Yeosang suggests, feet bouncing in excitement as he turns his head towards the crowds.

“You’ll look out of place Sang,” gruffs Jonho, his mask hissing and muffling his speech with a distant hum. “And Woosan would find somewhere to fuck.”

“Fuck off, meathead—” 

“I mean—”

The pair speaks at the same time and garners raised eyebrow from most while Yeosang snickers. Wooyoung scowls while crossing his arms and engulfing himself into the gigantic fur coat. San only giggles as he latches himself onto Wooyoung again.

“I wouldn’t mind giving Woo a quickie under the table instead, if that helps,” quips San with a devilish smirk.

Seonghwa could only groan as he pinches the bridge of his nose, he didn’t know why he even bothered to invite these people sometimes. They quickly manage to establish a plan after many minor off topic discussions, finalizing that Wooyoung and San would be the ones to go (regretfully), but they were to be monitored by Hongjoong, who had already undid the belt of his long green trench coat to reveal an emerald v-neck bodysuit. The group looks on as vines began to extend from the green of Hongjoong’s hip, draping over his legs until it formed an elegant gown rivaling those on the red carpet. Wooyoung, determined not to be outdone, whips open his own coat, showcasing a well-fitting blue-gray cropped tank and tight pants that began to frost over and form swirls of silver upon his chest and flows down his legs until it became a two piece dress that sparkled in the dying sun. He tilts his head cockily as he straightens out his coat, San whooping and cheering behind him. San had barely changed, his black heels and his leather bodysuit only covered with a sweeping, almost see through, black robe.

“I wanna go too,” pouts Yeosang, swinging his weapon dejectedly. Hongjoong struts up to the younger, making direct eye contact with Seonghwa, and gives a kiss on the pale cheek, cloee to his cherry red lips. 

“It’s ok, my little psycho,” He whispers intimately. “Next time I’ll bring you to a better party.”

“Ivy, I swear, just because we are allianced does not mean I won’t kill you.” Seonghwa hisses with lips peeling back an amiably as he steps forward.

Hongjoong, with a face of nonchalance, grins challengingly up at the riled up older. “What makes you think you can kill me?” He says, hand coming up to fix the collar of Seonghwa’s coat. Seonghwa smiles wider, his cheeks splitting as he stares down at the cocky irritant. His hand is already halfway into his coat. Vines begin to emerge from the brick walls, slithering over window sills and rusted ladders.

“If we don’t get going soon, I won’t be able to test out my new gun.” Yunho’s voice interrupts the tense silence. A few heartbeats as Hongjoong’s fist tightens around the purple snakeskin, eyes boring into Seonghwa’s as they try to read each other’s intentions. Releasing Seonghwa’s collar, Hongjoong dusts himself off before gesturing for Wooyoung and San to follow him. The pair exchange a glance, but follows along obediently, the clicking of their heels echoing as they exit the alley.

“Geez, what’s got their panties all in a bundle?” Yeosang whispers to Jongho, who could only groan at the obliviousness of the blond. The youngest begins to responsibly scale the wall of the alley, disappearing moments later under the watchful eye of the others, and Mingi shrugs before pulling Yunho along and following after.

“Babydoll.” 

Yeosang stops in his tracks. His breath hitches slightly as he senses Seonghwa’s domineering shadow hover behind him.

“Yes sir?”

“You know I don’t like sharing, right?” Seonghwa’s breath is heavy, hand slowly trailing up from Yeosang’s midsection and running over his chest before it wraps around the slim column of Yeosang’s neck. “We don’t want any punishment now, want to see you be able to walk straight, hm?”

He smiles widely when he feels Yeosang’s adam’s apple bob against the palm of his hand and a whimper leave the other’s mouth. Giving an appreciative squeeze to his throat, Seonghwa marks Yeosang’s neck again before releasing the blond and vaulting himself to the ledge of a window, climbing up the wall. The rest of the team was waiting patiently, Yunho using his high tech goggles to peer at the museum while Mingi fiddles with a device that looked positively explosive. Jongho grunts when Yeosang flips over the edge and motions to a glass ceiling sectioned partially behind the huge museum dome. They all agree silently as they creep above the rooftops of the shabby apartments, observing the rich below them laughing at nothing and living in gold-plated ignorance, not once moving their rose-tinted eyes to the buildings they believe to be below them.

Yunho blasts a bridge of ice with the bulky gun strapped to his back, the icy gleam muted as the sun continue to lower over the cityscape. The villainous gang moves stealthily across, only Mingi slipping and grumbling once, until they make it to the top of their about-to-be conquest. Mingi hurries off to place his multiple bombs on top of fragile sites that Jongho pointed out while the rest proceed to peer into the glass separating the night air from the essence of wealth of the heavily gilded museum interior.

“What the fuck,” Yunho whispers, pointing at a corner of the event room. “Isn’t that San?”

Shifting their attention from the crowds of bodies, Seonghwa and Yeosang spot the black figure that was the elusive male whispering flirtatiously at a visibly older man. The man is doing his best to keep his eyes above San’s waist, the effort painfully obvious if they could not tell from the knowing tilt of San’s lips. The odd part was that Wooyoung wasn’t hovering over his boyfriend as he normally was, in fact he was nowhere to be seen on the dance floor, which was peculiar in its own right. Seonghwa hums, not able to spot Hongjoong’s emerald shape anywhere either.

“Hey, we’re clear on the explosives,” Mingi says, reuniting with the group. “Jus’ waiting for the signal now.”

The eldest nods and Yeosang reaches into his pocket and unwraps a lollipop with a loud crinkle. Registering the group’s incredulous stare, he looks up, confused.

“What?” He asks, popping the candy into mouth and sucking on it almost obscenely.

They avert their gaze back downwards, continuing to wait for the signal. At that moment, a green sprout licks up the side of a window pane and frost begins to form on the closed doors. Mingi instinctively presses down on his detonator with a nasty chuckle, the bombs bursting into flames immediately and creating an impressive hole in the immaculate dome.

“Time to burn, fuckers!” The pyromaniac cackles as he leaps into the hole, falling into the middle of a crowd and sending flames licking upwards.

Yunho launches himself through the window with Jongho following close behind, both of them reigning their own area of chaos upon the immense ballroom floor. By now, there were screaming and fainting individuals, some even creeping to the frozen doors and banging on it futilely.

“My respected patrons, if you would please drop all your valuables into a little pile.” Seonghwa grins widely as he descends agilely to the middle of the marbled floors. “We would  _ love _ some audience participation.”

As he finishes his sentence, a guard rushes forward his hand reaching to his gun, only to have his head pathetically burst on the clean white floor while Yeosang stands above him wielding a giant dripping mallet. 

“Didn’t momma tell you it’s impolite to interrupt someone when they’re speaking?” A sweet, insane smile dancing across his face, Yeosang sashays to the center of the floor, his mallet leaning against his shoulder.

“Please, some proper participation would be… _ ice _ .” Seonghwa relishes in the sudden drop of temperature in the air around them. “Now if someone would please lead us to the museum vault…”

He trails off as he opens his arms invitingly, an eyebrow raising suggestively and an attractive smile on his face. When no one steps forward, he sighs and pulls out his gun and aims at a cowering couple. 

“Bang bang,” he drawls as he opens fire. The couple screams as they close their eyes, only to realize seconds later that they aren’t laying in a puddle of blood on the floor.

“Just kidding,” Seonghwa laughs, holding up his blank gun. “Was a funny joke, wasn’t it?”

When he doesn’t receive an answer, he rolls his eyes and whips out another gun with his other hand and pulls the trigger. The male’s head burst open like a grotesque crimson flower, bits of him splashing onto his female partner’s face as his forehead is split in half by Seonghwa’s bullet. The woman’s eyes widen but another bullet hits her before realization could. With a chunk of her head splattered against the floor, the woman sank to her knees with eyes rolling into what was left of her skull.

“Ah, killjoys. Hate ‘em.” The ravenette fires several more shots to the ceiling while Yeosang giggles beside him. 

A plain man with a suit makes stuttery steps toward them, holding his museum curator badge up in surrender when Seomghwa twirls his gun and aims at him. Mouth splitting in satisfaction, Seonghwa gestured with his head for the others. Mingi, Hongjoong, and Wooyoung joins them, the others opting to stay behind and have some fun with their terrified hosts.

“Lead the way, Mister!” Yeosang chirps as he prances along after Seonghwa. The man gestures nervously towards the frozen door and Mingi sighs before setting off a small device that burst into flames and melts the door.

“Quickly now,” he gruffs as he shoves his way out the door first. Wooyoung slings an arm around the jittery man, a passive smile decorating his face, and drags the other out with a skipping Yeosang behind him. Huffing, Hongjoong follows, raising an elegant hand; vines began to break through the floor, leaving cracks as they curl upwards toward the door. An odd squelching sound seals the door behind them as the plants bounds the door shut.

The halls are just as elaborate as the ballroom, the crystal lights flickering like real flames (they aren’t real, to Mingi’s great disappointment), and the group moves through winding corridors and display rooms with glass cases full of skulls and ancient papers. The man leads them to a plain white door and opens it with his keycard, his sweat freezing into ice, both caused by his close proximity to Wooyoung.

Wooyoung was about to step into the room when the guard begins to struggle, refusing to put his foot in. With that, Hongjoong grabs Wooyoung’s other arm and pulls him back. 

“Tripwires or somethin’ of the sort.” He determines, and bound the curator with plants as he looks around at the others. Mingi holds out a bomb as if it were a suggestion, only to have Seonghwa immediately push his hand down. Wooyoung breathes a breath of frost to the interior of the vault room, the air freezing and misting, revealing complicated lasers and thin silver tripwires.

“How annoying,” Hongjoong exhales. 

Seonghwa feels a light tap on his shoulder as the rest observe the room, turning and meeting Yeosang’s glittering eyes who imploringly asks for permission. He nods. With the confirmation, Yeosang takes the mallet off his shoulder, leaning against it before vaulting himself into the room. He twists midair, narrowly dodging a red beam as he lands in the middle of the room. He looks around, observing seriously at the traps surrounding him. Essentially trapped between narrow beams of red and looping wires, Yeosang could only tilt his head side to side to see where he was. Hongjoong looks nervous as he taps his heel incessantly on the ground, but Seonghwa only clasps his hands together confidently with a grin as he observes his princess doing what he loved.

Yeosang huffs, flexibly bending backwards and slipping under a beam, eyeing a power box in the far side of the room. With a flick of his wrist, a flash of silver hits the box, sparks flying as it becomes completely demolished. The lasers flicker out as Yeosang rolls up again, beaming. As soon as the last beam of light flickers out, Seonghwa steps over tripwires and moves to Yeosang, letting his hands drop to the younger’s waist and pulling him into a risky kiss. The shorter let out a yelp of surprise, giving Seonghwa the chance to lick into his mouth and drawing out an elongated groan as the other’s knees buckle slightly.

“Good job, doll.” Seonghwa smiles against Yeosang’s lips as the other grips desperately at his coat. He shoots a malicious grin at Hongjoong over Yeosang’s shoulder; plants begin to sprout next to the shorter’s feet and his face turns as red as his hair. 

“I fucking hate working with you guys,” Mingi growls, pushing past Hongjoong as he begins to pick his way across.

“You still keep coming back though,” Wooyoung points out flatly, stripping off his fur coat and leaving him in his tight costume, the ice that formed his gown melting off.

Mingi raises his flamethrower threateningly, to which Wooyoung responds with a cocky smirk and ice dancing on his fingertips. Scowling, Mingi turns back around and begins to melt the vault door instead. Over the loud sound of gas and flames, Seonghwa could catch several grumbles along the lines of “fucking McDonald’s ice cream machine” and “if it weren’t for Yunho” as Mingi furiously burns a hole into the metal. 

Hongjoong makes quick work of the curator, tightening the vines until the skin peeking through the green became purple and bloated, and blood quickly climbing up the man’s neck. Veins began to pop, prominent lines climbing up their host’s neck and pushing against the skin of his forehead. Blossoming purples and pinks decorate his body as his flesh is juiced by the entangling limbs of Hongjoong’s plants. A cruel smile on his face, the redhead snaps his fingers and the vines contracts, the head of the museum curator bursting with thick gushes of blood— much like a water balloon, if one were to compare. Bits of the man spout like a fountain from the neck, and the body stays mostly intact, save for the little bubbles of crimson that form under his decapitated body.

“Gorgeous,” muses Wooyoung, freezing some liquid in midair. It crashes to the ground in the form of a scarlet crystals.

With the hole in the vault wide enough, the gang makes quick work of collecting the valuables, ranging from pricey paintings and authentic, ancient jewelry to headdresses and armor to either improve or use to decorate. Wooyoung whips out a small black square and shakes it out, the black falling out until it the pale-haired man could shovel artifacts into it. Hongjoong ransacks some glass cases and reaches to a polished crown, placing it upon his red locks. Mingi grabs as much metal as he can, and obsidian, and helps Yeosang with the massive pile of jewelry and paintings he is trying to carry.

They quickly exit after gathering everything, Mingi blasting a hole in the museum vault and Hongjoong holding up the falling ceiling with plants. A group of security guards began rushing towards them, guns drawn. Hongjoong spread his fingers, green needles flying out and embedding themselves into several guard’s necks. Their face begins to swell, and the skin became pink and blotchy as their eyes bulge unhealthy from their sockets. They fall to the ground grabbing at their throats as their body became purple and their mouths retch black.

Mingi has his fun powering up his flamethrower, hurling flames into the wall of guards as they rush towards him. Screams echo as their skin blisters and bubbles in the sea of flames, the smell of burnt hair and charred skin permeating the hall. An insane laugh leaving his lips, Mingi tosses in a few explosives for fun, blowing up a few more people and splattering limbs and guts across the pristine white walls.

Making quick work of the remaining resistance, the group set back towards the central room to collect the rest. Hongjoong reopens the vine-wrapped door to witness San dripping with jewelry and licking blood off his fingers. Several more mutilated bodies litter the ground with a few limbs missing, a possible courtesy of Jongho who patrols by the piles of gold with blood splattering his arms and face. Yunho froze several patrons, their terrified faces encased in ice as if they were displays of the museums themselves. Some unfortunate body parts and fingers scatter along the floor, melting into a puddle of pink.

“Hope you didn’t have too much fun without us,” comments Seonghwa, a honeyed smile accompanying his velvet voice as he makes his entrance. He draws his gun and aims on the crowded floor, pulling the trigger without even paying attention to a target. A painful gurgle sounds when an actress (or not, Seonghwa didn’t care much) claws at her open throat, a glimpse of silver lodged in the middle with blood pouring out.

“Oh no, don’t worry.” San winks, stepping over the collapsed body of the women, who twitches uncontrollably as she fights for her last bit of life. “It was pretty  _ chill _ .” 

“If I didn’t love you I would’ve froze your tongue by now,” seethes Wooyoung, a disapproving glare shooting from his eyes.

“There’s some pretty bomb punch in the corner over there, if you want some,” states Jongho with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I swear—” begins Mingi.

“Ooo gladly!” Hongjoong interjects, trotting across the room to the feast tables. “I’ll help myself then.”

Wooyoung shakes his head at Hongjoong, but follows along anyways, grabbing several grapes on the way.

“May we  _ please _ focus on the matter at hand.” Seonghwa states, an exasperated hand resting against his forehead. He is blatantly ignored as Mingi proceeds to chuck a bomb into a group of people and cackles as it explodes, painting the ceiling with bits of flesh and hair and glitter. 

“Puddin’, let us have fun,” Yeosang whines as he drapes himself over the older. “I didn’t get to play with you this morning either.”

Mischievous smirk on his face, Yeosang pushes his hips into Seonghwa’s thigh.

“See you later,  _ Daddy _ .” With that, Yeosang struts off with his hips swaying and mallet resting across his shoulders.

Yunho manages to gather Mingi, still living off his pyromania high, and San, who was relentlessly flirting with a man gripping onto his date, and usher them to gather the jewelry. With a flirtatious kiss and a brush of hands against the front of the man’s pants, San reluctantly leaves his prey, shaking out the same kind of bag Wooyoung had and dumping piles of glittering gemstones and gold chains into it. Mingi powers up his flamethrower, only to be stopped by Jongho, who hands him a duffel bag instead; if any of Mingi’s curses holds true, Jongho would be a dead man by now. 

Seonghwa himself holding two full bags of the museum’s precious artifacts, he stands and watches as Yeosang prowls around, flirting with men and women alike. The small hands brush seductively against the sweating cheeks and trembling shoulders of many guests as they try not to move, and Yeosang merely smiles playfully when one or more guests flinch under his touch. One extremely bold guest reaches out when Yeosang passes, snatching the gun strapped to the younger’s thighs, and fires. Clearly inexperienced but true to the mark, the bullet rips into Yeosang’s shoulder, tearing a scream from his mouth. As quick as the triumphant expression lasts on the guest’s face, a knife lodges itself deep into the woman’s hand, tearing through bone and tendon as a shriek is quieted with another knife to her throat.

“Wrong move, sweetheart,” grins Seonghwa, voice low and smooth. His hand pushes onto the hilt, eliciting a strained gasp as more blood pours onto the white marbled floor. The woman's face turns fearfully to the side, eyes screwing tightly shut as the villain leans in, nose brushing against her skin and knife slicing deeper into her throat.

“You’re kind of boring.” Seonghwa straightens, leaving the knife in the woman’s hand but removing the one by her neck. A tension left the woman’s body, thinking herself relatively safe now that there was only a single knife near her body. Seonghwa smiles down at her, and she hesitantly grimaces back, as if they were sharing a joke together. A knife plunges into her abdomen.

“I would forgive you, but you ruined my prize,” sneers Seonghwa as he takes the knife out and slits the woman’s throat. The guest opens her mouth with not a sound coming out, Seonghwa’s cut severing her vocal cords. Red began to spray from the gaping wound in the woman’s body as Seonghwa stabs down again and again, mincing the flesh and pale skin with the decorated silver of her sequined dress. The struggles of the woman became weaker as her stomach is torn open, pulsing guts spilling as Seonghwa laughs, scarlet flecking his face. With a last heavy, squelching stab, Seonghwa throws his head back, moving the hair that had fallen into his eyes, and stands.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” he smiles, blood dripping from his jacket and hands. Blood beads trail down his chin and jaw, down his chest as he wipes at his mouth, smearing blood against his lips with his dyed sleeves. “Let’s clean up.”

Walking over and scooping Yeosang into his arms, he signals with his head at the rest. Wooyoung pops a grape into his mouth as he saunters to the center of the room. He pushes his coat back in a dramatic fashion, kneeling on the ground and spreading his fingers out on the floor as he chews. A chill spreads across the room as frost begins to creep once more on the chandeliers and walls. San giggles as he rolls several small balls across the floor, the balls exploding into clouds of smoke as he makes off with his bag. Jongho quickly descends after him, busting through a wall with two duffel bags thrown over his shoulder. Hongjoong leaps out the hole Jongho created, plants twisting under him to catch him as he slides down the side of a thick vine with another carrying two more bags. Seonghwa aims a grappling hook at the broken ceiling, supporting Yeosang with one arm, and pulling them upwards. From the corner of his eye, he could see Mingi hurl more explosives as Yunho freezes several more guests and guards before Mingi fires up his winged jet pack and Yunho slides out of site with his ice. 

As Seonghwa steps on top of the roof, he closes his eyes, letting the wind card through his hair as he feels the warmth of Yeosang against his chest. The whipping of flags and muted traffic sounds from below, melding into the melody of screams coming from inside the museum. Ah, the poison he mixed together with Hongjoong, melting the skin off anyone it touches. He opens his eyes and looks downwards into the hole, seeing a skeletal hand with muscles melted off reaching out, a head emerging from the mist right behind with eyes bulging out and melting with the muscles and tendons of the jaw exposed as the thin sheen of skin is ripped off by the gas.

“Sorry, Puddin’.” A murmur from his chest prompts him to look down at Yeosang. “Shoulda been more careful.”

“S’ ok, princess,” soothes Seonghwa, nosing at the delicate spot next to his eye. He leans in lower until his lips brushed against Yeosang’s ear. “You’re not gonna get out of your punishment tonight though.”

Yeosang whines and squirms a little, moving his cute little butt, but carefully cradling his arm. “Please?”

“You know what you deserve, doll,” sneers Seonghwa. “Bendin’ in half for the guests there an’ messin’ ‘round with Joong. Wouldn’t be surprised if you dropped down in front of everyone in the room an’ put on a show.”

He presses on, loving the red tint that begins to crawl up Yeosang’s neck and ears. “You’d love that wouldn’t you, hm? Seein’ all those eyes tearin’ you apart.” 

“N-no, sir.”

“Mm, that’s right, dollface. You know no one can ruin you better than me. You’re a good girl, aren’t you,” Seonghwa mocks, relishing in the heated whimpers the smaller was letting out as he mouths at Yeosang’s pulse point. “Not those naughty, dirty,  _ slutty _ girls down there.”

Seonghwa smiles, hearing a small mewl come from Yeosang as the other’s eyes began to glaze over. The helicopter he called whirs in the distance as they came to pick them up back to their warehouse. The last of the sun fades safely over the corrupted city, the stage lights still blazing gaudily into the sky, welcoming the late, unsuspecting guests into the museum. The screams had died down, leaving the city square oddly quiet, with ignorant camera flashes still sounding below them on the red carpet. The ladder drops down, and Seonghwa grips onto it with one hand, slowly ascending while still supporting Yeosang’s weight. Crimson began to smear on Yeosang’s jacket as slowly climb into the belly of the aircraft, and Yeosang slowly licks up Seonghwa’s chest teasingly, humming at the tangy taste of blood.

“Y’all are fuckin’ disgustin’,” comments Wooyoung as soon as they settle down.

“I think they’re cute—”

“Yunho, shut the hell up, literally no one fuckin’ asked.” San hisses, eyes narrowing like a cat.

“Jus’ ‘cause you got that vibrator shoved up your ass does not mean you need to act like it,” defends Mingi, jolting up and wobbling the helicopter a little.

“Oh, fuck off, Cheetohead. We all know you got the hots for Iceberg Lettuce over there, no need to fuckin’ flaunt it.”

“I’ll shove my bombs up your ass too if you don’t—”

“Jongho is sleeping, and if I hear another peep out of you idiots I will chuck you out the window,” Hongjoong cuts in, sitting cross-legged under a solar lamp and shivering under his coat. He only manages to prompt more bickering from the rest as the others immediately accuse him of fucking Jongho. Seonghwa ignores them, moving to patch Yeosang’s shoulder with the onboard first aid kit, and digging his fingers into the open wound to fish out the bullet. Biting down on the fabric of his jacket, Yeosang groans, eyes squeezing tightly with tears pricking the corners as Seonghwa cleans the wound with alcohol. Wrapping up the bullet hole with gauze, Seonghwa allows Yeosang to snuggle closer into his side as they both watch their allies— or friends, if you could call them that— bicker away into the night.

“You wanna do something crazy t’morrow?” Yeosang hums as he buries his face into the crooks of Seonghwa’s neck.

“With you?” Seonghwa grins, a maniacal light in his eyes. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on @bloominghwas if you want to see me screaming :)


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